


just so glad that you're real

by ficfucker



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Not Beta Read, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: wayne thinks back to when he first knew he loved darry
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 90





	just so glad that you're real

**Author's Note:**

> title from jack stauber's 'coconut ranger'
> 
> " i'll hold you closer in a second.  
> there's something heavy weighing on my teeth.   
> what's my deal?  
> i'm just so glad that you're real. "

Funny thing, Wayne realizing he was soft as a fucking sally for his best good buddy during such an unsoft moment. Been Wayne's whole life, though, if he gives it any thought. The thrashing juxtaposition of molasses slow enjoyment nestled between scraps and fits and general unease. 

And somewhere in the mess of it has been Darry. 

Wayne's in the hayloft looking to see if he left his cutters up there last time he was cutting twine when he looks down to see Darry pulling off his white undershirt. Man's sweating like a sinner in God's kitchen and for good reason. Wayne had assigned him to muck the coop that morning and it appears that Darry's been good on his word considering the sweat rolling down his back, the shit sticking to his boots. 

Even from afar, Wayne sees the scar on Darry's back. 

From the night Wayne realized he loved Darry in a way he's never loved another before and fuck, if it didn't scare the hell right out of him. 

Happened when Darry was involved heavy with that powder what goes and makes your nose bleed and widens your pupils to the size of your Mama's good supper plates, ones she only uses when relatives are round for the holidays. Wayne knew Darry'd been fooling with the shit and he wasn't keen on it, but Dan indulged and Katy was known to smoke some electric lettuce. Hell, Wayne wasn't above substance either. He got crocked enough to giggle until he spit, so he kept his preaching light, even if he felt a Puppers wasn't comparable to coke in the fucking least. 

Letterkenny was getting to be a meth den and Wayne wasn't too proud of the fact, it being his home town and all, but he tried his best to shoo skids from the produce stand and other than the idea of letting loose some varmints down in Stewart's basement, Wayne wasn't sure what his options were. 

Anywho. Darry wasn't a skid by a long shot. Fuck, he was still Wayne's best buddy, a hick through and through, evident by his worth ethic and his habit of wearing barn clothes to town. Sometimes he bought off some skeezy fucking fellas, wanted to cut a line on a Saturday, but Wayne would turn his head like he didn't see Darry with a dollar bill jammed up his nose for the sake of their closeness. 

Fast track to a bad time, Wayne knew, and it came quick enough. 

Nobody had seen hide nor hair of Darry for pert near three days and Wayne would've been lying if he said he wasn't worried out of his wits. He'd gone poking around the usual haunts, checking the rink and the shelters and the dumpsters, banging on Darry's door at 3 in the morning and getting no response other than the barking of Darry's frenzied dogs. Wayne knew Darry wasn't roadkill, though, considering his shit box van never left the drive and the pups had food and water each time Wayne stopped by Darry's house. 

Darry was around, but fuck, he was being sly as a fucking weasel. 

Wayne was out driving, circling the town in his truck with the windows down, figgering maybe his next move should be just clear hollering for Darry. Cup his hands round his mouth and belt out Daryl loud as he could. Damned be the neighbors if they had a problem. 

They'd have a bigger problem if they tried to stop Wayne from finding Darry. 

He found Darry that night. 

Tit was in the old lot that used to be a basketball court, though it was just a half size pouring of cement and a netless hoop. That's what it'd been about ten years ago. Now it was all grown over with tall grass and nettle, dandelions sprouting up through the cracks. No one tossed rocks there. It was skid territory and Darry was caught up in. 

A single street light illuminated the scene, casting an orange circle over the group of guys. 

Wayne slowed his truck. Even from a distance, he knew Darry by the way he held himself, didn't even need to see his face to know. Wayne pulled the truck off into the weeds, killed the engine, and started stomping his way over. 

Three skids, one Darry. Wayne recognized Stewart and Roald, but some other greasy nutsack was standing between them and fuck, was he a big one. Not lean and gaunt like drugs were rotting the flesh off his bones. He was bout the size of Wayne. 

"What," Wayne asked loudly, "the actual fuck is goin' on here?" 

All heads turned to him. 

The unnamed skid responded, "Yer hick buddy ain't good on his word." 

Wayne didn't intend to ask, because quite frankly, he didn't give a ball's tug what Darry was caught up in, but if he planned to, he wouldn't have had time. 

With eyes still on Wayne, the skid took advantage of the moment and charged Darry, tackled him right down to the craggy cement. 

And Wayne saw red. Didn't have fucking time to uncuff his plaid, he was moving forward. Roald and Stewart went to intercept, but they weighed about as much as a stack of napkins and Wayne pushed them on their asses without so much as looking their way. 

Wayne grabbed the skid by the collar of his shirt and hauled him up, turned him around. By the look on his face, he wasn't expecting Wayne to be this tough or this quick, and Wayne started giving him the good; mashing his face so knuckle collided with bone and teeth. He was downright fucking pulpy by the time Wayne let go and he slumped like a wet sheet to the ground. 

Wayne looked over at Darry and there was blood pooling around him where he lay. Whatever had happened, Wayne was fit to go running clear to the house and grab the 12 gauge, watch these skids shit their pants and beg for forgiveness. He was so worked up, he tingled. Wayne felt lightheaded. 

And what a bizarre moment to realize it, but Wayne suddenly knew he wouldn't go through all this trouble for any other, that the blaze in his chest was one unique to Darry, reserved only for him. 

Wayne helped Darry to his feet and spun him around. Bits of green glass bottle were torn clear through his coveralls, stained dark red from where the blood was pooling. 

"Take you to get patched," Wayne said, gentle as he could. "Get in the truck." Darry hobbled off, wincing, looking like a drowned rat. Wayne turned to the skids and pointed a finger. "So much as smell you five clicks from the farm, pull yer guts out yer asses and tie 'em together so you're a fucking chain gang of miserable nutsacks."

Fearful whimpering and stuttering was the response. 

Wayne drove Darry to the hospital that night and the glass was removed, his wounds cleaned. He needed five stitches to close the biggest gash, just below his right shoulder blade, but beside that, he wasn't too greatly injured. No head trauma, no signs of overdose or memory loss. The nurses cleared him and they bundled back into Wayne's truck and made the trek back to the farm. 

Like hell Wayne was going to let Darry be on his lonesome. 

Darry explained, ashamed and exhausted, about getting too dependent on his fix and promised to pay the skids big when in truth he'd already blown his cash on his last bender. Gang was fixing to hang Darry like Christ on the cross when Wayne had shown up. Darry could take a beating, no two ways about it, and Roald and Stewart hardly equated one whole man in the terms of fighting power, but that burly skid probably could've skinned Darry like a cat. 

Especially considering how shaky and unbalanced Darry was from withdrawal. 

"Don't want an apology," Wayne grumbled once Darry had got through his story. "Don't want you talkin' all self pity neither. Want you clean from that shit. Dan, too. Yous can go to the clinic together. I'll cover yous both, courtesy of the farm." 

"Wayne, can't just be going and sayin' that," Darry cried. "Already owe you enough as is." 

Wayne curled his knuckles tighter on the steering wheel. They had been bandaged by a nurse who refused to let him run around with his hands all torn open and bleeding like they were. "Don't owe me shit, Darry, fuck. Fuckin' whole world cept you and me know what's going on here." 

Darry got quiet as a church mouse. "What's going on here, Wayne?" 

And Wayne, pulling onto the lane way, the only sound between them being the crunching of gravel beneath the truck tires, thought about the panicked swell of his heart when he'd seen Darry laid out and bloody. How he felt lethal enough to break that skid's legs and toss him headfirst into the nearest body of water. How he never wanted to see Darry torn up or knocked out ever again. 

"Fuckin' soft. Fuckin' love you, Darry." 

Darry was struck dumb a minute before he got to the water works. 

They sat on the tailgate of the truck a while, talking and nursing a couple Puppers. They were close enough that their thighs touched. Agreed to get Darry and Dan some help. Agreed to give her the old college try to being sweeties. Agreed that there'd be no more trouble less the trouble came to them, not the other way around. 

Rest is history. Darry and Dan got clean and have been walking the straight and narrow the best a man can without putting too much pressure on slip ups here and there, because no one is above error. Darry and Wayne have been joined at the hip, choring and sharing a bed and toe curling out in the field when the nights are the perfect balance between warm and cool. Scraps have come and gone, but none so serious as being drug related. 

"Enjoyin' the show up there?" Darry calls. 

Wayne snaps out of his reminiscing and stands at attention. He hollers down, "Hey, Darry!" 

"Whut!" 

"Fuckin' love you wide as a country mile, you goddamn sally!" 

Darry beams and laughs, face scrunching up like a delighted little kid. "Get down here and say that to my face!" 

So Wayne gets down there and says it to Darry's face. 

Among other things. 

He's got his arms around Darry's naked shoulders and he draws a finger over the scar tissue. Darry shudders. 

"What's got you worked up, Super Chief?" Darry whispers. 

"Mind your beeswax, Darry." Wayne squeezes his sweetie a bit tighter, ignoring the stink of the farm and the dampness of their combined sweat and the heat of the barn. He says, voice so quiet you can't barely hear it, "Jus' so lucky to have ya."

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to write, this is what came out
> 
> find me on tmblr @ficfucker 
> 
> thank you for reading !!


End file.
